Why do my balls still ache? Jade and Lacy acted their toned little arses off for me as I directed them in my own personal porn show. Even if I closed my eyes at the final moment and saw only emerald greens looking back at me, I still thought I came hard enough to give me a little reprieve, but no.
I hear the front door shut, and I get that twinge in the base of my spine and that ever-present throbbing in my balls that I know will only be sated by one thing. Tia.
It’s my own damn fault; I should’ve made my move on our first drunken night together, when I knew she was interested, before she started putting up these barriers and shifting me into the fucking friend zone. I hadn’t done all my checks, and I needed to be sure she wasn’t playing me. I needed to be sure she was telling the truth. I needed to be sure she was real. She did tell me the truth. She just didn’t tell me everything, and when I found out, I hated myself for being so damn good at my job. Hacking into her prison records and medical file exposed a world of pain I can only imagine and something I can’t in good conscience add to, what with my own fucked up shit. Not unless she makes the first move.
She freezes in the doorway of the kitchen, unsure of my mood no doubt. I have laid out two plates, there’s a shit tonne of Chinese food, and there’s a pot of tea steeping. To me at least, it’s pretty fucking obvious I am over her ‘best intentions’.
“You said you weren’t going to wait up,” she says, her voice hesitant. I don’t blame her, although I have a grip on my temper most of the time, she’s seen me at my worst, and that’s pretty fucking scary.
“I didn’t wait up.” I start to open up the take-out containers.
“Oh.” Her shoulders drop, and I shouldn’t take so much pleasure from her disappointment, but I’ll take that and any other sign she throws my way that this is more than a ‘just friends’ deal.
“I haven’t been to bed, but I didn’t wait up for you. I was busy.” I don’t have to make it easy, though. I’m not pussy-whipped… yet.
“So I saw.” She sniffs derisively, and I take that as a win, too. My face splits into a shit-eating grin until she snaps with open hostility.
“Did you give them breakfast, too?” I raise a brow, and her eyes narrow on mine. Heat and hurt hide behind those long lashes, and I’m desperate to explore the former and heal the latter. It wasn’t always like this, but recently the tension, sexual and otherwise, between us seems to be escalating on a daily bases. Something is going to give. I just hope it’s her, to me.
“Did they look like friends?” I ask, my tone softer, and I take the seat opposite.
“No, not exactly.” She flops down into the seat, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes and how her skin looks so pale. She’s exhausted. Now I feel like a complete shit, not for shutting her down earlier but for goading her now.
“Then you’ve answered your own question.” I wink and start to dish up her favourites. She rests her head in her hands and rubs her temples. Her dark hair falls in long, loose curls like a curtain, covering her face until she draws in a deep breath and sweeps it back.
“I’m sorry, Logan.” She holds my gaze, and all I want to do is sweep her into my arms.
“I know, Dodge, I know.” I stand up and walk round the table. She looks up, startled, when I lift her into my arms and sit back down in her place. She lets out a peaceful sigh and relaxes into my hold, her head heavy on my chest, her eyelids starting to droop.
“Hey, you need to eat something.” I kiss the top of her head and, with enormous effort, ignore the swelling in my boxer shorts when she lets out a heavenly moan.
“I think I’m too tired.” She stifles a yawn but loses the battle to keep her eyes open.
“Then let me.” I scoop some rice onto a spoon and press it against her lips. She opens her mouth and for the second time in as many seconds, I have to try and focus on anything other than that sound of ecstasy escaping her perfect lips. Next stop, cold shower.
I’m making some homemade soup, as I know the smell alone will rouse Tia from her self-inflicted coma. I carried her up to bed around six this morning, and it’s now nearly five in the afternoon. I checked on her several times throughout the day, even held up a mirror against her mouth to check if she was still breathing at one point. I swear she hasn’t moved a muscle in the whole eleven hours. She’ll be starving when she wakes and probably grumpy too, having wasted the whole day asleep, and since she’s an idiot who is due back at work again tonight.
Heavy footsteps thump slowly down the stairs, the carpet only just dulling the sound but setting the tone of her imminent arrival. She has a face like thunder when she appears, her hair wild and looking like it is trying to get as far away from her and her foul mood as possible. I hold up my hands in surrender before she even opens her mouth. She narrows her eyes and scowls like it’s somehow my fault she’s an idiot. I told her she didn’t have to work, and she has an alternate income now, so there really is no reason to do these ridiculous shifts.
“I made soup.” I blow on the spoon and take a final taste, perfect. My smile fades at her response.
“I don’t have time.”
“Yes, you do. I called you a taxi to give you a little more time, now sit.” My tone brooks no argument, and I point sharply at her seat. Her shoulders sag, and she instantly loses her irritation.
“Oh, Logan, that’s so kind.” She slips into her seat, her eyes on mine.
“I know.” Her face lights, and that smile is all kinds of infectious. I take the bowls from the warming oven, pour the soup, and top the fresh minestrone with some oversized, deep-fried croutons and do the same for mine. She pulls at the baguette on the table and takes a huge bite. Her cheeks swell as she struggles to contain her mouthful, her smile, and her thank you when I hand her the soup.
“Don’t choke, I’ve ordered a taxi, not an ambulance,” I quip.
“Funny.” She swallows and sticks her nose into the rising steam, and her tummy makes an audible and timely growl. “God, I’m so hungry. Did I actually eat any breakfast? I don’t remember.” She picks one of the croutons off the top and plops it in whole, puffing heavily when she realises it’s way too hot for that, her hand waving manically in front of her mouth.
“So hot, so hot!”
“Don’t, you’ll make me blush.” I bite back a grin, and she scoffs.
“I’d pay to see that from the man who shamelessly struts round naked half the time.”
“I’m not a fan of clothes. Nothing shameful about that.”
“No, I guess. It just took a little getting used to.”
“I’m wearing clothes now.” I sweep my hand down my body, which is clad in a black fitted t-shirt and dark jeans.
“Yes, you are. Are you expecting company?” She holds my gaze, and I give a curt nod, but I’m not inclined to share the details. My plans changed, and it’s her damn fault. I ignore her inquisitive glare and answer her question from earlier.
“You did eat some breakfast, I forced it down you before you passed out.”
She hesitates but wisely chooses not to pry. “I thought that was a dream. Did you undress me too?” She arches a brow, and her lips purse into the cutest grin. Her cheeks start to colour, and my balls are instantly in fucking agony once more.
“Yes, and it was complete torture, so don’t remind me.” I shift in my seat, and she drops her eyes, her tone no longer playful.
“Don’t tease.”
“I’m not,” I state with absolute honesty. She keeps her head down, and I let out a frustrated groan when she changes the subject. She powers on regardless.
“I made a list of all the art supplies I’m going to treat myself to when the cash from my painting hits my account.”
“Nice deflection there, T.” I tip my head to one side, raising a brow and holding her sheepish gaze. “I’d happily order on-line. I told you that.”
“I want to pay my way, Logan. God, between you and Maria, you’d think I was destitute.”
“Maria?” My spoon hovers just above the bowl.
“My boss from work. She said I could help myself to the supplies in the store cupboard. She said no one would mind, probably not notice even.” She scoffs, and I drop my spoon with enough force to make her jump. Her eyes go wide with surprise.
“Please tell me you’re not so fucking stupid as to risk stealing with only twelve months left on your probation!” I grit out, my rage building with the tension in my shoulders and my white-knuckle fists.
“No! I’m not that fucking stupid!” she snaps back. She drops her spoon into her bowl and, placing both hands on the table, raises herself and pitches forward to meet my anger head-on. “Jeeze, a little fucking credit might be nice, Logan.”
“Tia…” I reach over and cup the side of her face, the tenderness of my move disarming her anger and taking her completely by surprise. Her body reacts to my touch like I hoped it would. She leans into my palm and closes her eyes when I speak softly, the words catching in the back of my throat with their truth. “I can’t lose you. I won’t let you go back to jail.” She nods, and I pull my hand away, adding when she opens her eyes to look at me, “I believe I would hate that more than you, sweetheart.”
“I doubt that.” She pulls her mouth into a soul-sad smile, and her eyes fill with tears.
“No, you’re probably right.” I agree, and since we are on this subject, I need to understand what is really going on in that head of hers, because not for a second do I buy that her new career choice and location is a coincidence, or that it has anything to do with her contributing to the household coffers. “So tell me again, Tia, that you working for his company has nothing to do with revenge, and remember: you’re piss poor at lying.” She stiffens, her back straight like I’ve just inserted a four-foot pole up her backside.
“You know a little faith would go a long way here, Logan.”
“You have all my faith, T; you just have a shit tonne of my concern, too.” My tone is rising to match her irritation.
“I know what I’m doing, Logan.” She stands and snatches up the bowl of soup. It’s her turn to be pissed at me for overstepping a line that, between us, keeps shifting. I stand and catch up to her at the doorway, my hand resting on the small of her back. My fingertips ache to touch her skin, and they fist in frustration into the loose material of her sweater, preventing her from moving forward.
“I can’t lose you, Tia.” I repeat my words from earlier, and she lets out a heavy sigh.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I stand flush to her back, her heat seeping across the damn material barriers between us. My other hand rests on her hip, and my fingers curl around her soft flesh. I pull her back against me, firmly fixing her body to mine.
“Logan, I can’t. You don’t want someone like me, and I won’t risk us.” Her voice breaks, and her body starts to tremble. I can hear her heart beating; it’s so damn loud. I can feel her, like every nerve in her body is alive because of our connection. I drop my mouth to her neck, and she leans her head to let me get where I need to be, where she needs me.
“Us together is the only good thing in my life, Tia. I have nothing if I don’t have us.” My breath washes over her silky pale skin, and I can see the blood pulsing through the vein in her neck. I place my lips over the pulse point, and she sucks in a sharp breath. She holds it for blissfully long seconds, and I’m momentarily filled with hope.
“You’re my best friend, Logan,” she says, slowly letting out the breath she had been holding.
“Bullshit, I’m your only friend, and this is more than that, and you know it.” I can’t hide the frustration in my voice, and this has nothing to do with sex. I hate that she won’t give us a chance, any chance. I know what’s holding her back; still, she has to feel this in her bones; I know I sure as hell do. “You have to trust me on this, Tia.”
“Like you trust me to help you, you mean?” She twists out of my hold, and man, my hand just twitches to spank that obstinate arse.
“Fuck, you’re stubborn.” My voice is a deep grumble, but I back off, for now.
“Must’ve rubbed off then. Now let me go. I have to get ready for work.”
“We’re not finished here, Tia,” I call after her as she scurries up the stairs.
“We’re not started either,” she yells back. Fuck!
The doorbell rings just as Tia comes down the stairs, ready to leave. She offers me a tentative smile I can’t quite read. Her eyes have this crinkle in the corners from her smile, but they keep darting to the floor and then the door. I am about to press the automatic open when Tia beats me to it, pulling the front door wide. Jade and Lacy are standing on the porch, arms linked and looking like any man’s wet dream. Damn it! I flinch when Tia gasps.
“Back so soon?” Tia smiles sweetly, but her jaw is so tense, she’s having to push the words through her clenched teeth. The girls enter, their wide eyes firing between me, Tia, and each other. Tia may have made herself clear where we stand, but I’m not done playing my hand, even if this is a particularly low blow.
“I have blue balls from hell, Tia, and I blame you,” I bite back.
“It’s okay, Logan, I blame me, too.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she steps past the girls too quickly for me to stop her. Fuck.
I’d kick the door shut if I could get close enough, my anger coursing through me like a wildfire, burning my insides and needing an escape. I freeze at my own imaginary safe distance in the hall, nowhere near the door. I drag my hands through my hair, and from the bottom of my belly, let out a deep and frustrated howl. The echo of my torment bounces off the walls and up the stairwell.
“You want us to do the same as yesterday, sweetie?” Jade ventures after I fall silent. The only sound is my ragged breathing and my teeth grinding. I fish a wad of notes from my back pocket and hand it over to Jade.
“No, I want you to get the fuck out of my house.”